Mighty to save
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Spamano. Reposted, one of my most popular fics. Romano is troubled, unable to find peace between his religion and his love. Religious and Yaoi themes, ergo a cautious M. a little touchy maybe? please read and review. Don't like, Don't read. Thanks.


**~REPOSTED**

this here was one of the most popular stories on my old account, with something like twenty reviews and heaps of favourites. im really sorry, to those of you who have read/favourited it before, and i thank those of you who had eviewed it before as well. fear not, it is here to stay now. hope you enjoy. ^^ i dont own hetalia or anything, mind.**  
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**AN**: When I was fourteen, I was in love with this guy… and he was in love with the church. Didn't even know I existed. And you know when you're fourteen and you'd do anything for them? Well, I did. My years as a fierce Christian were possibly the most false and honest years of my life. How that's even possible I don't know, but they were. Long story short, they made me who I am today.

I left eventually, having realised that the guy was a cunt, and went off to form my own views on life and faith and God. You might pick up on some of them in this fic, actually. But one thing I took with me from the whole experience was the music. So here. This isn't a song fic, but this below is the song that inspired it, and inspires me still almost every day.

http: /www. youtube. com/watch? v=3Lab0SHGXkA

and now I present to you a fairly personal fic, actually, although I never intended it to be. Let it be known I don't own hetalia, I just happen to be one of those who utalize the characters for their own purposes. XD

~.~.~.~.

I grip the chalice a little tighter in my shaking hands. The wine within almost spills, it is sweet and welcome on my tongue but presses with an accusing darkness down my throat and into my gut. I feel it turning to blood in my stomach. Swirling and blending with… sin.

My hands shook a little more and I handed the chalice back to the bishop. Any spills would only call attention to the tension I bore today, the huge dark cloud hanging over me and crackling with ill favour.

"God bless you son."

I allowed my jelly legs to carry me back to my pew. My stomach grumbled lowly, and I cringed.

I don't understand…

When I was sat back in my seat, fingers worrying the rosary beads I carried in my pocket, I remembered to breathe. A quick glance around the church, it was obvious no-one was looking at me any different to how they would usually. The last few were returning to their seats, the bishop was organizing himself in the pulpit. There were no visible marks on me, but I still could feel it. The smear of evil on my face, of white sin all through my hair and in my mouth…

These people couldn't see it, but I knew when the light from outside shines through the glittering stained glass windows high above the altar and illuminated me, God could see it. God could see the stains in my hair and on my skin, and no amount of soap could ever erase the mess from my pathetic body.

I rose numbly for the final blessing and hymn, gazing at the immense vaults of the chapel roof with glazed teary eyes. as each magical, holy note reverberated in the space, the squirming illness within me struggled, the back of my neck prickled. Tears of fear and sorrow tracked shamelessly down my face.

Why am I such a disgrace?

I drop to my knees when the song is over, kneeling as in prayer and waiting for the church to empty. I wished to be left alone now, I needed to find the courage to go to confession, and I needed the calm to be able to say the words that were fevering me. I needed to relax and let the peace of the church fill me. I needed the touch of god to heal all the terrible rips and aches within my soul.

After a while, the sound of footsteps on the stone floor dropped. One by one people left. Some lingered to pray, others chatted in the aisle. Eventually though, only the ghost of incense remained. A white peace echoed in the space, cool drafts swirling beneath ancient sweet scented pews. I sighed, not wanting to raise my head. Not wanting to open my eyes and look to the human world in which I was trapped. A world of evil and temptation and lust unhallowed.

Footsteps. The soft shuffle of footsteps up the aisle, a softly hummed tune. A joyful hymn, I recognised it from somewhere. The sound flooded me with calm.

"Will you remain to pray?"

I raise my head slowly when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. It belonged to an older man, white haired, dressed in churchly attire. He bore a censer and a broom, the brightness of the day licked radiance in his thinning white hair. The smile on his face was kind. I shook my head and stood, realising that I was much taller than he.

"No, I'm going to confession now."

"Rough day?" he dug around in his robes, looking for something, and withdrew a neatly folded tissue. I blinked and took it gratefully, wiping the tears that were drying on my cheeks.

"Something like that."

"Well always remember my boy; God loves you, no matter what."

"Yeah, I will, thanks." I managed a weak smile, and the stranger beamed back, before shuffling up to the altar and beginning to sweep. Squares of golden light from tall windows were cast on the flagstones underfoot as I passed by, walking through the beams was like walking through falls of heaven. Dust motes swayed peacefully in the air and my body was filled with stillness and calm I had forgotten.

I managed to still my hands as I neared the confessional.

The curtain was dark blue velvet, old and dusty, I pushed it aside for entry and sat on the stool there in the small, wooden confides.

"Good morning bishop."

"Ah, I'm afraid you only have a plain old priest today, child."

"Good morning then, priest."

The sound of the disembodied voice relieved me further. Although I recognised it, I was familiar with all the pastors and parish leaders in Italy and most of Spain, I didn't bother to place it. All that mattered was that it was warm and pure and beautifully holy. I didn't want to put a face to that. This anonymity made it much easier to believe I was talking to God.

"Good morning to you too."

I could hear the benevolent smile in his voice. In fact, I found myself quite drawn to the muffled voice of the man beyond the wooden screen to my left. It was very kind, much kinder than most other priests I had ever heard.

"So tell me my boy, what troubles you?"

I bit my lip. My heart began thudding again and I forced myself to focus on the incense scent of the church, the holy cross of Christ above the curtain of my booth.

If I confess this, then that will make it okay. Everything will go away.

I will be forgiven.

"I am tempted father."

"Tempted can mean many things. The devil uses many methods to prey on Gods children."

"I am tempted by another man." My eyes flicker shut and I try not to think of him. His beautiful green eyes or cute, idiot smile.

"You are tempted by another man?"

"I feel lust for him father. When I'm in his presence I feel… unclean because of it."

"And you wish to request gods forgiveness for this?"

"Yes." I clenched and unclenched my fists. Id never said these words out loud before. I didn't like them, but I knew they had to be confessed before they destroyed me.

"Very well. Say ten rosaries and pray for forgiveness if you wish to feel forgiven. And do not be tempted further."

"I already have father."

"What do you mean?"

What did I mean?

I had spent the last twelve hours trying not to think of what I mean. Of a normal evening, a bottle of wine and a movie. Of a simple and gentle confession. A confession with a lot more at stake than this one.

Must have taken a lot of guts. But then again, there were a lot of things that Antonio was. A coward wasn't one of them.

"I mean, he feels the same way. He feels lust for me too."

"You cannot ask for forgiveness for him. If he's sorry, he will repent."

"He will not be sorry." I felt tears brim again, and let them fall. "I ask forgiveness for the fact I'm glad he wont."

"You are forgiven."

I nod, though the priest cannot see me. A deep breath. It's almost over.

"I kissed him."

"In lust?"

"No. I suppose… I'm not sure."

I lapsed and the nameless voice allowed me a moment to think.

"It must have been. Yes, but I didn't feel… it didn't feel like lust. I kissed him because it made me happy. And it mad him happy."

"You feel you love him."

"I might."

Once again, silence.

It was a truth I hated to consider. I mean, honestly. He was a complete idiot! Id never met anyone so dumb in my life. He never seemed to care at all about my feelings before; he never seemed to take an interest in anything other than his own stupid little Antonio world. He was carefree and bubbly and clumsy as all hell. Even more so than me! And yet for some awful reason, I just…

I ached for him. Desperately, starvingly. I positively _ached_ to see him smile. To hear him say my name.

To make him happy.

"He's an idiot." I wiped bitter tears on the back of my hand. "It took him so long to realise how I felt and then… he just kissed me. Nothing else. He didn't ask for anything more than a kiss and I felt so positively evil about it because… because…"

"You wanted more."

"Yes! The dumb bastard! So I told him and he got all flustered. He said it was okay, I didn't have to. He just wanted me to know how he felt and he really didn't expect anything form me. And of course that was the worst thing I could have possibly said because it positively made me mad for him. He actually managed to make me want to satisfy him and I'm disgusted at myself… how is this even fair?"

"… I'm a priest, not a relationship councillor."

"I don't need a relationship councillor!" my confession rose to a whine of desperation and agitation. "We don't have a relationship! I don't want a relationship with such an idiot and if I did well god wouldn't approve anyway. I'm a disgrace, father. I'm a mess and I'm a disgrace and I just…" I bent forward in my chair and buried my face in my palms. I was getting carried away again. A cold sweat was beginning to prickle on my neck. It's an agonising experience, this confession. It hurts dully, in the base of my chest.

"… I gave him a blowjob." My voice lowered to a shameful whisper, face exploding into red.

"You what? I can't hear you."  
>"I gave him a blowjob. I told him it was okay, I liked him. I wanted to make him feel special. So I gave the bastard a blowjob and then I ran away. Before he had even finished cumming in my face I just stood up and ran away and he called for me to come back and begged and he's been ringing me since and I don't want to answer. I never want to see him again, I never want to hear his voice, and I need Gods forgiveness because I hate myself desperately for everything that happened."<p>

Partway through that confession, I felt normal speech give way to broken sobs. I fell to pieces in that little booth, every string I had used to pull myself together falling loose, every last shred of self worth I possessed disappearing.

"You wish to ask for Gods love then, is that what you mean?"

"I want forgiveness."

"It sounds more to me like you want love."

I heard the sound of shifting cloth through the screen that separated us.

"It seems to me that you are unhappy because you don't feel worthy of the love from either God or this man to whom you allude. You blame yourself for having feelings you don't believe you deserve to have reciprocated, and you lash out. You seek forgiveness from a God you stopped believing in a long, long time ago, and now you expect to be comforted by a stranger for something you did out of pure selfishness. Is this true, Lovino?"

I sat up in shock at the sound of my name. A feeling not unlike being speared in the gut pierced me. Breath suddenly became short.

"Excuse me?"

"You've never had sex before, have you?"

I jumped at the squeak of a chair in the next booth being slid backward.

"Never let yourself get carried away by emotion… never even had an orgasm, I'll bet. You have no hesitations killing a man though. I mean, you're famous for your mafia, right?"

Footsteps. My jaw loosened in shock when the curtain of my booth twitched.

"You'd kill a man with lead but you never would with love."

I almost screamed at the man who was supposed to be a _priest_ when the curtain swung open and I was bared to the light beyond. The complaints died in my throat though, all too soon. Replaced by a breathless panic and disbelief.

"Are you okay, Lovino? You look like you've been crying."

"…BASTARD!" I rocketed myself at the man now intruding on the sanctity of my confession, hammering my fists as hard ad I could into the respectfully clad chest. Black robes ruffled, he stumbled a little but caught himself against the wall. My wrists seized in a bruising grip, I flailed my arms wildly, wanting to punch his face. Wanting to rip out his hair. Wanting to break down and positively _die_ because there he was in priests robes looking holy as holy can be, and I was stuck being a dirty godless slut forever doomed to burn in hell.

"You're a bastard I hate you!" I struggled again against his grip, but he has always been stronger than me and he always will. "What are you even doing here? How could you even _dare_…"

"Italy isn't the only catholic country in the world, Lovi. As a catholic country that gives me the role of ordained minister by default."

"Yes but _you!"_ I spat the word as disdainfully as I possibly could. _"You! _You don't deserve to wear. This. Robe!" with each furious word I forced his hands back, trying to make him punch himself in the face to no avail.

"Lovino calm down you-"

"Shut up!" another furious jerk to release my hands.

"Lovi-"  
>"Shut it"<p>

"LOVINO!"

I jumped.

Antonio rarely raised his voice. He rarely ever took on an expression of seriousness either. He rarely did anything other than flit around like a complete moron and fuck up my life, and yet the man who gripped my wrists that morning had commanded me silent with just one word. Every complaint I had was forgotten, fierce green eyes drilled into mine, lips curved down into a tight frown. He looked furious. He looked like vengeful god in that moment, staring me down, framed by light and crowned with the cross on the wall above his head.

"I only came here today because I need to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you!"

"You were talking to me fine before. You didn't even recognise my voice!"

"Well of course I didn't! I was distracted, and your voice sounds different today for some reason! What do you expect?"

"My voice is the same as always thank you very much! And don't use that distraction crap as an excuse."

"It does so sound different! It sounds all clogged and nasal and-" comprehension dawned. I noticed the red rims around his eyes, the agitated shadows beneath. "Have you been crying?"

"No." he spat, and released my hands roughly. "As if. Why should I?"

And though the earth didn't open up and swallow him, though God didn't smite him where he stood, I knew that Antonio had lied to me. In a _church._ And yet in the stained glass light that fell on his tousled dark hair when he stepped back, I could almost believe he was a saint.

"Anyway, Romano."

Ouch… he hadn't called me that for a long, long time.

"I came here to find you and the pastor invited me to lead the congregation. I sorely wish I had, now, because maybe then I could have given a really good sermon on considering the feelings of those who love you, but never mind, you wouldn't have listened anyway."

He turned his back on me and began walking away.

"Oh yeah?" I resisted the urge to run after him and slap him up the side of his stupid face, fisting my hands and hollering as loud as I could. "Good thing you didn't read the sermon, tomato bastard, cause if you did there's no doubt you would have sent the whole congregation straight to hell!"

He froze. Just froze.

Stopped exactly where he stood and trembled with what may have been fury or hurt. I didn't particularly care. Both were favourable.

"Yeah, you heard me." I was mouthing off now, hot under the collar and wanting to hurt him as bad as I possibly could. "You sick pervert. You evil sick faggot. God hates you almost as much as I do. I hope you die!"

He was back on me before I could even properly blink.

Strong arms gripped my collar, forcing me against a wall. My head ached dully, from where it had smashed against the stone.

"Que, Romano? Come again? I didn't quite hear that."

I spat in his goddamned face.

Sick satisfaction coiled in my gut at the sight of my spit glistening on his cheek. It globed down his jaw line, leaking onto the collar of his robes. His expression became one of repulsion.

"You know what Lovi, fine. If that's how you want it." He released me, allowing me to slide down that wall and slump, still nursing my spinning head. His tone was edged cold now, emotionless and terse. "You go home and pray to your heartless god for forgiveness. Do whatever you want that will make you feel better. But I just want to say that I hope when you are lying in bed tonight, you think about me, and about how much I love you. Think about how much of a jerk you are. Bossy, bad mannered, rude and lazy… you will never find someone else to love you even half as much as I do. Consider how little I give a fuck about anything beyond your happiness. You go, get out of my sight. If you want nothing to do with me then I will give you exactly that. But I swear, with God as my witness, if you change your mind I will never take you back. I will never, ever forgive you." he stepped backward and opened free passage for me. "I'm not like God. I don't believe in second chances."

And I was left like that, in the foyer of a church. Listening to the toll of the bells and breaking to thousands of tiny pieces inside.

.x.x.

"_Bastard!" Lovino scowled and dabbed at the wine spots spattering his shirt. "Pay attention!"_

"_Sorry, sorry." I picked up his spilled glass and sopped the spreading puddle of Spanish red seeping across the glass of the coffee table and onto my floor with the hem of my tee. "I tripped."_

"_On what, your own dumbass feet?"_

"_No, your bag." I pointed to the canvas satchel, filled with whatever it was he carried around with him, and placed the bottle of wine down. "Why would you leave it in the middle of the floor like that?"_

"…" _he flushed and his scowl darkened, jamming out a foot to drag the bag back over to the side of the sofa. "Because fuck you! I just put it there, okay?"_

_I sighed._

"_Don't worry, it was only a little wine."_

"_This was my favourite shirt."_

_I resisted the urge to point out that it had been entirely his fault, and bent down to mop up the puddle on the floor too. _

"_You are so argumentative Lovi…"_

"_Shut up, no I'm not."_

_I hid my smile, straightening up and pulling off my wine sodden shirt. _

"_Whatever. Wait there, I will just go get a clean top." I strolled from the room and down the hall, breaking into a run as soon as I was out of sight._

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuckfuck._

_Calming myself down, I tossed the dirty top into the laundry and pulled a black elbow length v-neck from my drawers. It was a bit warm for it, but the evening was nigh and the light breeze wafting through cracked open windows was a little cool. _

_The top was a little snug, my shoulders were wider since I had brought it, and it rode up a little on my stomach. I pulled it down self consciously and bustled back to where he was sitting, peeking in the door before I actually went in._

_He sat there, having poured himself a fresh glass of wine, legs tucked beneath him and gazing absent mindedly out the window into the sunset. Like a picture from a sepia toned movie, I felt my heart flutter a little in my chest. His pretty face pulled into the perpetual little frown, the corners of wide thin lips turned down, I watched in wonder as he nibbled his index finger pensively, still gazing deeply into space. I wish I could just read his mind._

"_I'm back." A deep breath I stepped through. Sharp eyes rested on me for a moment before sliding off again carelessly. He grunted and I approached him, still tugging down the bottom of my top._

"_What's wrong?" I sat down at the other end of the sofa, picking the now more or less empty bottle of wine up and drinking straight from the neck. He regarded me with faint disgust._

"_Nothing's wrong."_

"_You sure?"_

"_yes." He went back to nibbling his finger. "What was it you wanted, anyway?"_

"_I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. I haven't seen you in so long, and I missed you."_

"_hm." He pulled a face and sipped his wine daintily from his glass. "I find that hard to believe."_

"_Yeah." I smiled at the irony. "Me too."_

_The faintest ghost of a lip twitch, Lovino sighed and settled back into the sofa, holding out his half glass of wine._

"_Whatever, bastard. Fill me up again, before you drink all that please."_

"_I have plenty more."_

"_I don't care, I like that one."_

_And he did. It was the special sweet one he favoured, I had bought it especially. I relented, and filled the glass to the brim, emptying the whole bottle._

"_Woah! What do you think I am, and alcoholic?"_

_I shrugged and tapped his bare feet softly with my finger. "No feet on the furniture."_

"_Fuck off." He drunk a mouthful of wine and clinked it on a coaster on the table. _

"_Come on, Lovi, this is a new sofa."_

"_And these are old feet. Give them a break will you." he combed his fingers through his hair and snuggled down in the sofa a little more. "so anyway. What plans did you have this weekend? You're taking me to the beach, if you haven't already thought of that. and-"_

"_Lovinoiloveyou."_

"…_What?"_

_I bit my lip and clutched his foot nervously. Had I really just sat that out so blatantly? Really? Oh God, I actually had. Oh hell. _

"_I, as in me, love you, as in, you."_

_At first, the silence was awkward, bordering on painful. He stared at me dumbly, eyes wide, and I tried to sit up straight and not dissolve into a petrified trembly puddle of terror and embarrassment. It had taken me years to pluck up the courage to do this, and I was going to do it like a man. With dignity and not showing any hesitation. This was what I was about, right? Passion, confidence… Lovino was flighty and likely to punch me. I realised that. Being bashful about the whole affair wouldn't make him any more likely to punch softly. Besides, if I was straight up about it he might give me a little mercy._

_I carried on. "You are far from perfect, you know that? You're aggressive and lazy and ill-tempered and impatient and unpleasant to be around. You are fussy and possessive and frankly you can be a little bitch when you want to be, but you're MY little bitch and I just love you. And that was pretty much everything I had planned for the weekend."_

_He blinked slowly, his one hand clawing the left cheek of his suddenly tomato red face. _

"_Excuse me?"_

"_My plans for the weekend were to tell you that. I didn't think I would get it done so-"_

_And that was when he reacted precisely as anticipated._

_His slap clapped sharply in the space, and my head snapped to the side, spinning. _

"_Are you MAD?" he shrieked, clutching the hand he had slapped me with to his chest, as though it may be infected. "Are you completely insane? Are you a crazy bastard? A dumbass? You can't just… you cant…" words failed him. He spluttered and buried his face in his palms. "Oh god…" _

_I nursed my sore cheek and observed him, a little shocked, as he sat there and began muttering under his breath._

"_Oh, good merciful God. Have pity… oh God…" _

"_Lovino…" I reached for him but he jerked away, breathing heavily in barely concealed panic._

"_Leave it! I'm okay!" breathless, he rubbed his face, flustered and verging on what appeared to be nervous breakdown. Of course, this had not been my intention. In truth, I found it a little bit… surprising. I sat there blankly, with no idea how I was supposed to react._

"_Lovino, are you sure you're okay?" I edged my hand out toward him again, fingers brushing his shaking arm. When he didn't pull away, I shuffled closer, genuine concern filling my chest. "What is it? I'm sorry, did I offend you or…"_

_He shook his head hurriedly and closed his eyes. How could three little words send someone spiralling into distress like that? Really?_

"_Let go Antonio, I'm fine. I just… I-I… I'm fine. LET GO!" his voice rose spectacularly and I released his arm in a hurry. _

"_Sorry, sorry!" I raised my hands in apology and he glared venomously at me from behind fingers clasped over his nose and mouth. Huge hazel eyes glistened, his panting breath whistled in between his fingers and with a sigh of relief I realised that he was calming down._

_I waited for three or four moments, for his breathing to return to normal and his hands to drop from his face to a worried knot in his lap._

"_Are you okay now?" I asked, hand brushing his shoulder. Lips pressed into a firm line, he nodded, and stared pointedly at the floor. _

"_I'm fine, thank you. That was just… shocking, that's all."_

_I couldn't help but laugh._

"_Clearly. I thought you were going to have a full blown panic attack."_

"_no, what do you take me for? Some kind of girl? I'm _not_ a girl Antonio." I noted he put a lot of emphasis on the word 'not. "And I am not the kind of guy who has a freak out just because his jerk of a friend is making cruel jokes."_

_The simple honesty in that statement tugged my heartstrings a little on so many levels. _

"_I'm your friend Lovi?" a smile cheered my lips, and he flushed a little reader. _

"… _No."_

"_You just implied I was."_

"… _So?" he shrugged it off. "I don't have many friends, I take what I can."_

"_Oh, Lovi. I'm touched." I leant in and combed a strand of hair back from his elegant cheek. "and also, I'm not joking."_

_Even if I had been joking, his reaction would have been enough to make me love him._

_His fists balled on his lap, shoulders stiffening, hair falling forward to hide the explosion of pink in his face, he just looked so cute. So sweet and shaky and adorable I couldn't stand it._

"_You are so cruel Antonio."_

"_I am? How?"_

"_Saying all those things about me. That I'm lazy and bossy… and then you stick an 'I love you' on the end to make it okay. It's cruel."_

"_But… Lovino." I tried to tilt his face to mine, but he resisted firmly. I settled for caressing the side of his neck instead, running the back of my fingers languidly up his beautiful olive neck. Sweet and sexy and mine… "They are all true. They make you who you are and I love them too." I let my face fall to his shoulder, hardly believing my luck when he didn't push me away. _

"_I love everything about you, Lovino Vargas. I always have, and I always will."_

_No reply, but it was shortly after this a trembling hand tilted my chin, a nervous face turned to mine, and unpractised lips silked with the ruminants of wine slid ever so sweetly across my own._

.x.x.

I shuffled forward, over stone floors, and lent on the doorframe looking into the vaulted nave, scanning the pews for him and glimpsing his form, to the left, beneath a tall window.

He looks to be praying, and I think he is unlikely to stop any time soon. From what I knew of Antonio (a lot. far too much… everything) he did not pray often. When he did, it was a sign of weakness. A signal of desperation.

He was usually much too proud to ask for help.

"Bastard…" I murmured and slid down the wall, landing softly on the stone floor and still peaking at him as discretely as I could. He hands raised to his head, his eyes were focused into his lap on the hands he clasped together there. Soft smiling lips were turned downward into a line of discontent. I rubbed my own lips without thinking, the ghost of his against them prickling the back of my neck.

Such little, tender kisses. Long and light, wasting away almost an hour brushing lips and shyly experimenting with the tips of our tongues. His arms around my waist, the texture of his hair between my fingers, when I finally dared to slip inside his mouth he had welcomed me gently, lovingly. The feeling saturated in warm vanilla sweetness…

My cheeks burned and I clutched at my rosaries. The prayer though, escaped me. I couldn't for the life of me remember the words. All I can recall is his hands stroking my waist, nudging the hem of my shirt upward in a most inflammatory way.

He shifted in his pew, I jumped and darted back behind the doorframe, listening to him adjust himself. In the cavernous space, his sigh echoed faintly. Footsteps too, echoing from the vestry behind the altar toward the main doors of the chapel, and a soft, holy voice.

"Antonio?"

"Mmm? Oh, hey bishop."

"Respect your elders son, you can't just 'hey bishop' me as you please." Though his words were a reprimand, I could hear the warm smile in his rich Italian voice.

"Right, sorry, father."

"It's all right, kiddo." The bishop, who upon peeking around the edge of the door again I recognised as being the man who had lead the service today, grinned and petted Antonio's hair casually. "Thank you for taking confession today. When reverend Kevin called and said he wasn't able to, I began to worry."

"It's my honour to serve where I can when I can, father."

"fortunate you attended, the lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?" the older man, skinny, with a full silver beard and twinkling brown eyes, tucked his hands into his robes. "I was worried I would need to ask young Lovino to fill in, and we all know that would have ended badly."

I scowled. Guess what bishop was getting a talking to from the pope next time they met? That one, that's who. Jerk.

"Lovi means well, bishop. He's just terrible with people."

"Last time he took confession, he told an elderly woman to "get the F-u-c-k over it." And yelled "NEXT"."

"Yeah. Like I said. He means well, but he's terrible with people."

Silence fell, and I squirmed uneasily in my seat. That may actually have happened, it doesn't matter. The point is I really disliked the fact that my own bishop was having a bitch at me behind my back, to Spain of all people. It was a little bit of a prickly, hurtful feeling, actually. As If I hadn't already been kicked in the emotional stomach several times in the last 24 hours.

The bishop sighed and pressed his hands together.

"I swear Antonio, you truly are a saint to tolerate him so fully as you do. He strikes me as a little troublemaker, if I am going to be honest."

"He's my trouble maker." Spain shot the man a weak smile, and my insides turned to jelly. "I'm fond of him."

"You are one of a kind."

I tried to pull myself together, pinching my cheeks to calm down the splitting ripping thump of my heart, the tingling fluttering all over my body. The sensation of my skeleton trying to leap out from under my skin and dance violently all over the church.

"I'm leaving now, Antonio, it's almost three."

"I want to stay a while, I think. Pray some more."

"Tough times?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. When you leave, lock up the church."

"I will."

"God be with you, child."

"And with you."

I listen to this exchange intently, shrinking back into the shadows as the bishop walks straight past me and out the door.

And silence rigs in the cavernous space that is the church.

Suddenly, my heartbeat is raucous, he continues to sit there, oblivious, gazing up at the cross of Christ above the alter in reverence. How can he do that? How can he look so peaceful and pure and glorious? Just like last night, his face a mask of radiant bliss when I took him slowly into my mouth, he manages to exude and unearthly light. Though inherent ecstasy has been replaced by still sadness, it seems to fluctuate around him in waves. A silver aura. A halo.

I slid back up the wall, legs shaking slightly, and edged into the main church. My footsteps barely made a sound, but it carried clearly, magnified by the acoustics of the ceiling and walls. He didn't turn around. By the time I reached his row of pews I was shaking terribly, heartbeat so frantic I could barely breathe. I balled my fists nervously. He made no sign to show he was aware of my presence. My lip split from where I had chewed it, and the little sting was enough to push me over the edge into tears.

What do I say? What could I possibly say to make this okay? To make the aches go away.

"What do you want, Roma?" Antonio finally looked at me, face arranged into a displeased expression. His robes were a little ruffled.

I drew a deep breath and suddenly felt very dizzy.

"I don't know." I answered honestly and quietly, barely loud enough to hear. "I can't…"

"What do you mean, man. Ask yourself and answer. What do you want."

"I-"

"What do you want?" Antonio stood and gestured fiercely with his arms, winching when his hand collided with the hymnbook ledge in front of him. I stumbled backwards, catching myself on the pew behind me. He had come so close to raising his voice to me. Antonio _never_ raised his voice to me. It scared me absolutely shitless.

Mouth agape, I watched in horror as he wiped the back of his forearm angrily across his face to whisk away any trickles of tears.

"Lovino make up your mind!"

"I don't know."  
>"MAKE UP YOUR MIND!"<p>

"I DON'T KNOW!" I matched his shout, noting dully the sound was like that of a livid God as it rang through the chest of the building. Bordering on furious now, he strode out of his pew and passed me by, which I wasn't expecting. He had walked away from me so many times in this one day I didn't think I could put up with it any more. I flung my arm out and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't you _dare_ walk away from me!"

"Watch me."

"Oh no you don't. You come back here right now!" I dug my heels as best as I could into the stone and jerked him backward. It caught him for a moment, but too easily he resumed his purposeful walk.

"ANTONIO YOU BASTARD!" I swung myself around and slammed my shoulder into his chest. "Don't you DARE walk away from me."

He seemed a little shocked. Good.

"This is all your fault." I stabbed his breast with my finger forcibly. "This is entirely your fault! What did you expect, you can't just put me on the spot like this, you can't just say something like 'I love you' and expect complete acceptance. What did _you_ even want?"

"I didn't want anything, you dumb Italian bitch. I didn't ask for a single thing and you know that!" he shoved me away and I licked my lips, tasting blood. "It's not my fault that you're an indecisive teasing _slut_."

"What did you just say?"

"I said you're a _slut. _A whore. A dirty _bitch_. First you disregard your values and then you disregard me. You should have chosen one or the other, you sure as all hell can't have both."

Fury seized me, unlike anything I had ever felt before. The need to lunge at him and smash his head all over the stone floor was almost enough to make me do it, the feel of his skull cracking on any hard surface at all the most desirable thing in the world.

"I am not a slut!" I roared, grabbing a hymn book and throwing it as hard as I could at him. It missed, and kept sailing until it hit an alcove, sending a candelabra clanging to the ground. "And how utterly _hypocritical_ of you, telling me to make up my mind between my values and the person I'm in love with. You seem to have no problem with having the best of both worlds!"

"I made up my mind a long time ago Lovino! And I'd make the same decision over and over and over. I'd burn in hell for a million eternities if it means that I can have you, I'd die a million deaths for you. I'd incur the fury of god and dance with the devil himself if it means that I could hold you close for just a little while. And I asked nothing from you. You know that. I asked absolutely _nothing._" A bitter scowl turned his mouth. "I thought you had made your decision too. If I'd have known that you were just going to do this then I would have rather had you say you hated me."

"You've decided?" I glare disbelievingly at his priests robes. "Says the man dressed like the fucking pope."

"there's nothing wrong with the right thing, Lovi. And for my people and for me, a little kindness is the right thing. If I can help people be happy by dressing up like an idiot and singing stupid songs, then I will."

"So what, you just carry on and ignore the rules that you don't like?"

"Well, don't you?"

His anger was beginning to fade a little, our conversation becoming more sedate.

"You've killed people. You are slothful and indulgent and dishonest. You swear too much and… I'm sick of focusing on what's wrong with you. Fact is, there's so much that if god really wanted everyone to adhere strictly to his so called commandments he would have struck you dead a long time ago and you know it."

I swallow nervously. "t-that's because I've been forgiven. I've been washed in the blood of Christ-"

"Yet you never stop, do you? By your logic, if you kill me now, then pray about it, that makes it okay, you are forgiven. Then, You can go outside and slit the throat of the next child you see. Same principle. Pray a little, and all is well. But its not, is it?" he stepped forward, challenging me to deny his point. "If that's how god works, then he's a fool. And you're a fool for believing it."

I flushed and glared at him. His eyes… they were so beautiful and green…

"We aren't talking about killing someone!"

"No, we aren't. We are talking about you taking advantage of someone who loves you and then running off because you have decided that because I was a man that made it evil. That's right?"

I hated it when he was observant.

Spain was not by nature a sharp man, but when he was focused, when he had something completely in his scope, he honed in on it unlike anyone else I'd ever know. Rendered defenceless by this statement, I stared pointedly at the floor. It held no great revelations, remaining just as hard and grey and heartless as any other floor in the world.

The two of us lapsed into silence.

My mind began to spin. Everything, crashing onto me. Too much, shattering in my heart and ripping me to pieces in my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold my insides in, trying not to fall to bits and leave a pulpy mess all over the church floor. The silence mocked me; the peacefulness pressing at my too tense body was ironic and heartless.

He was right, he had asked for nothing. Nothing except my forgiveness when he came into my mouth.

I deserved it, really. It was all my fault. I was the one who kissed him, who slid my hand into his jeans and told him with a smile to shut the fuck up and take it like a man when he complained. I was the one who willingly accepted him, who genuinely enjoyed the feeling of his fingers sliding through my hair. Who allowed heat and arousal cloud my mind when he began moaning my name a soft, worshipful mantra.

My fault. My fault. All of it.

My mistake for running away, hoping to find a reason not to let myself fall in love.

The cold uncaring arms of the god who forgave murderers were no comfort. The prayers that had never been answered were all just excuses. All just things to hide behind when I couldn't face my own heart.

"What do you want, Lovino?"

His voice was soft now, and gentle, filled with warmth I could happily bathe in. his robes rustled as he approached, his fingers caressed my cheek and I raised my face, trying to salvage some dignity.

"What do you believe, Antonio? How do you justify this to yourself and to any higher power that may exist?"

He shrugged. "I just love you."

"Aren't you scared at all?"

"No."

"Do you have _any_ faith?"

"Of course." He smiled a little and tilted his head to the side. "Faith is a journey; it's an integral part of life. And I don't believe it should be defined so harshly by rules and laws that make no logical sense." He glanced around the suddenly much brighter church. "I think that as long as you love God, love others, and have a good heart, he doesn't care about anything else."

"Do you have a good heart?"

"I try my best."

I blushed and touched the hand cupping my face.

"You have a lovely heart Antonio."

The honesty in that statement burnt my throat; I hoped I never, ever had to say something as raw and embarrassing as that again. That emotionless floor became inexplicably fascinating as I let him absorb my words. It took him a moment, each passing second I grew more and more uncomfortable until finally, he responded with quiet "Hey."

I glanced at him from under my bangs and once again, was taken by his glow.

"What do you want Lovino? You can have anything. Anything at all."

"I want… I…" I rubbed my sore lip anxiously and shuffled my feet. "If I say 'I love you' once, do I ever have to say it again?"

He shook his head, small smile lighting up the whole place. "You already said it."

"I did?" my eyes widened. He nodded.

"Quote _'telling me to make up my mind between my values and the person I'm in love with'_ end quote."

I exploded into a blush.

"Hey, bastard, don't quote me!"

"I will quote you on that until the end of time." His lips brushed my forehead softly, I let my eyes fall shut to savour the feeling briefly, before he stepped away.

"Come on, I will take you home. We can stop on the way and get pizza."

I nodded; he laced his fingers with mine.

We locked the church door firmly behind us.

.x.x.

"_When you said that you would never forgive me, were you telling the truth?"_

"… _You could make a million mistakes and I would forgive you every time."_

.x.x.


End file.
